A Song Come True
by HepCatRaven
Summary: The guys learn to be careful what they wish for...
1. Chapter One

A Song Come True  
  
Adrianna fluttered tiredly to the ground, completely worn out from her recent flight. She glanced around herself, pushing her silvery wings aside for a better view.  
  
/Cement...and stairs...and...heat!/  
  
She pulled her tired body out of the snow and tried frantically to climb the steps. Heat was slowly pouring out from underneath the glass door. She crawled up against it, her body soaking in any warmth it could. Her eyelids trembled, becoming suddenly heavy, and finally closed.  
  
* * *  
  
Mush placed a foot out the front door, preparing to beat his new record of four steps in one leap. He stopped himself at the last second, causing Racetrack to slam into the back of him.  
  
"Ey! What's da hold up Mush?!" He pushed his way past his friend, then stopped next to him, gazing down at Mush's latest discovery. He removed his cigar with two fingers, his eyes popping. "Woah..." He craned his neck to glance behind him. "Ey guys! Can youse come help us?"  
  
The rest of the newsies crowded around Race and Mush. "It's a goil!" Blink looked skyward. "Thank you God!" He mouthed.  
  
"Is she okay?"  
  
"Only one way ta find out..." Mush bent down and felt for a pulse on her slender white neck, a smile ever growing on his face. The pulse was faint, but consistent. "Come on guys, let's get huh inside."  
  
Mush, Race, Blink, and a few other newsies scrambled to lift the small girl from the doorway. Blink got to her first. Boots closed the door behind them as Blink carried her up the stairs and into the bunker.  
  
* * *  
  
Adrianna awoke even warmer than she had fallen asleep. She opened her eyes slowly, not wanting to face the blistering cold again. /I'll have to move from this spot sooner or...later.../ Violet eyes fully open, she sat up quickly and gazed around.  
  
An old man entered through a doorway carrying a steaming bowl. Adrianna's stomach growled, letting her know that it had noticed as well. Forgetting her fear and her unfamiliar surroundings, she lunged at the bowl as soon as the old man came closer.  
  
"Oh! Good, youse is...awake..." He looked at her curiously for a second as she grabbed the bowl of soup from his hands, then gave a hearty laugh. "An' hungry too I'se see."  
  
She nodded, smiling. Her smiled dropped as she tried to remember where she was and realized that she didn't know. "Excuse me sir...but...where am I?" She paused, waiting for an answer. "Oh, and thank you for the broth, it was delightful."  
  
The man grinned widely. "Youse is welcome...it ain't every night we gets a beautiful young lady ta visit us. Youse is at da Newsboy's Lodgin' House. Welcome!" He spread his arms grandly, gesturing around the room.  
  
A memory of the sign above the doorway with the heat suddenly flashed before her eyes. "And how did I..." Her eyes flickered from bed to bed.  
  
"Da boys took ya in...de'll be back in a bit. Dey din't wanna leave ya, but dey had ta. Carryin' da banna and all dat."  
  
Adrianna gazed up at him, a blank look in her eyes.  
  
"You know, sellin' da papes?" No response. He sighed, trying to cut down on his accent. "They...sell...the...newspapers." He said, over enunciating every syllable.  
  
"Oh! Yes, newspapers!" /I've/ heard /of them at least.../  
  
"I'se is Mr. Kloppman...but youse can just calls me Kloppman...no mistah."  
  
"Adrianna..." They shook on it, Kloppman resisting the urge to spit on his palm first, his strong wrinkled hand enveloping her dainty pale one.  
  
* * *  
  
"Youse guys wanna skip Tibby's for now?" Snipeshooter asked, walking backwards in front of the rest of the newsies.  
  
"Yeah!" Race, Blink and Mush said nearly in unison. They glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes.  
  
Jack gazed over his shoulder at the Jacobs. "Heya Davey, Les, youse guys comin'?"  
  
Before David could say no, Les piped up with a loud "Shoa Cowboy!" David glanced down at his brother, wondering how he could pick up an accent so fast.  
  
When they reached the lodging house, all the guys ran upstairs, throwing coats and scarves every which way. They reached the top and halted: Spot was sitting on the bed next to the girl, talking and flirting with a vengeance. He glanced at the doorway and smiled, standing. "Heya fellas. Adrianna, da guys. Guys, dis...is Adrianna."  
  
Jack pushed his way to the front. "Yeah Spot, we know." He lied.  
  
"Oh, well den..." He smirked. He and Jack stood eye to...chest, staring each other down. Adrianna looked frightened.  
  
Jack broke the gaze and clapped Spot on the back, laughing. He waltzed over to the bed next to Adrianna and sat, the remainder of the newsies following suit.  
  
Race spoke up first. "Hiya dere pretty lady, I'se is Racetrack...but /you/ can call me Race." He winked at her, causing her to blush slightly.  
  
"I'se is glad ta see youse is feelin' betta." Mush pushed him out of the way and ran a hand through his hair. "I'se Mush...youse uh...goin' wid anyone?"  
  
Jack rolled his eyes and pushed Mush out of his way. "Ignore him Adri, I'm Cowboy."  
  
The rest of the introductions went around the group in a similar fashion.  
  
"Well, I don't know what to say! I'm overwhelmed..." Adri sighed lightly, flustered.  
  
"Ya could say youse will go out wid me!" Mush yelled, a wide grin on his face.  
  
She smiled. "That's very sweet of you...Mush...but I don't even know you!"  
  
"We could change that." David said, bringing a strange look from the newsies.  
  
He blushed heavily and Adrianna laughed, her voice like tiny bells chiming. "That's very, very kind of you...of all of you: you are all /very/ special to me. After all, you saved my life!" She thought for a minute. "I want to repay you with something." She said decidedly. She shut her eyes tight, then popped them open again. "Done!" She sang out.  
  
Jack blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah...anyway, I t'ink you need some more sleep, okay?"  
  
"Okay," She grinned devilishly and yawned. "I guess I am rather tired still...but I must leave in the morning." She warned.  
  
"But ya jus' got heah!" A sorrowful look went around the group.  
  
"Oh...don't be sad," She said, smiling in a motherly fashion. "Now, you boys need your rest as well...but you might want to eat first, tomorrow will be a big day for you all."  
  
More puzzled looks crossed the faces of the newsies. "Hey...how did she know dat...?"  
  
Race stood. "Well, personally, I'se is sta'vin'. Let's go!"  
  
The newsies filed out of the room and headed to Tibby's.  
  
Mush bent down over Adrianna. "Ya want me ta bring somet'in' back for ya?"  
  
She shook her head. "I'm fine, go."  
  
He paused awkwardly, then kissed her on the cheek. "I'll miss ya, even tho' ya were only hea for a li'l bit." He rushed down the stairs to join his friends.  
  
Spot slowly stood from his place in the shadows. He bowed low, gently taking her hand and kissing it. "'Bye m'lady..." He said, smiling in his charming Brooklyn way.  
  
Adrianna sighed faintly as he walked out the door in his ever-cocky manner. She lay back against her pillow, her dark hair spilling over it in dramatic contrast to it's white surface. Her eyelids demanded to be closed, and so she obeyed, allowing the warm blanket of sleep to cover her once again.  
  
* * *  
  
By the time the boys returned from Tibby's, Adrianna was already fast asleep. They quietly stripped down and got in bed...but only after Racetrack got soundly whipped at Gin Rummy by Itey, again. 


	2. Chapter Two

The next morning, when the first rays of light peeked through the dusty windows of the Lodging House, the boys opened their eyes to a new, fully made, empty bed.  
  
Racetrack turned over slowly, stretching his arms above his head and hitting the wall behind his bed and stuck his cigar back in his mouth. "Heya, Adri? You up...yet...?" He sat up, staring at the bed next to him. "What da..." He whispered, confused, his eyebrows coming together. He whirled to his left.  
  
"'Ey, Blink!" When his cycloptic friend didn't move, he ripped off his cap and smacked him with it.  
  
"Wha-what?! Oh, just you Race...lemme go back ta sleep a'ready..." He rolled back over, catching sight of the now empty bed next to Race.  
  
"What da..."  
  
"Dat's what I'se said...didja hear huh leave?" Blink shook his head negative, sitting up on his elbows.  
  
"Neada did I..." He scratched his head with the tip of his cigar. "Dat shoa is weird..."  
  
The others began to rise and dress. He called Jack over. He spotted the problem from across the room.  
  
"Well, did she leave a note?"  
  
Racetrack eyed his friend wearily, but shrugged none-the-less. "Din't t'ink 'a dat." He crawled out of his bed, wincing as his bare feet hit the icy floor. Tiptoeing over to her bed, he threw himself on it upon reaching it, his feet thankful for the break from the cold. He glanced at the pillow, which was freshly fluffed, though that still hadn't helped it's state of raggedness, and under the bed.  
  
Blink padded over to the bed as well, and lifted the pillow, swiping up the small slip of paper before Racetrack could.  
  
"Din't t'ink 'a dat neada..." He grumbled to himself.  
  
Jack crossed his arms and stood behind Blink as he read it aloud, helping him with the larger words.  
  
"Deah Newsboys..." Jack turned and called the remaining newsies closer.  
  
Blink cleared his throat and started again in a louder voice, fighting down his thick accent. "Dear Newsboys, I cannot express to you how thankful I am for your kindness...yeah, kindness and hospi...hospital? Jack?"  
  
Jack leaned over his shoulder. "Hos...hoss-pih-tal-ih-tee...hospitality."  
  
Blink nodded. "T'anks Jack, kindness and hospitality. I also regret having to leave you all so quickly;"  
  
"Ya got dat right..." Boots mumbled softly from a top bunk.  
  
"In and out of your lives in a mere...mere? Wuzat?"  
  
Jack tapped his chin in thought as Spot walked through the door, David on his tail.  
  
"It's a second...real quick like." He adopted a British accent. "A fleeting moment of time."  
  
Blink smirked at the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. "Heya Spot, Davey...join us won'tcha?"  
  
"Heya boys..." Spot settled down next to Pie Eater, placing his cane across his lap.  
  
David plopped down on the floor near his brother, who hadn't come home with him the night before.  
  
Blink rattled the paper loudly. "In a mere instant, but I'm afraid I had no choice. My grad-ih-toode, gratitude is forever your's, and I will never forget you. Love,"  
  
Mush sighed loudly.  
  
Blink rolled his eyes. "Love, Adrianna. Oh, wait...PS I hope you enjoy your gifts." He looked up and around the room. "Gifts? Anyone get any gif's?"  
  
The newsies traded glances, then shook their heads.  
  
"What'd she mean by dat? Hey Jack, ya t'ink she was runnin' from da bulls?" He asked, switching subjects.  
  
"Pro'bly...wonder why...oh well, come on ya bummas,"  
  
Blink stood proudly. "We'se got woik ta do!"  
  
The next week or so went by without much change, and most of the boys even forgot about Adri's so-called "gifts", until one morning...  
  
Mush awoke and stretched, still missing Adrianna though it had been more than a week since she had disappeared. He swung his feet over the side, his toes touching something soft before hitting the wooden floor. Puzzled, he glanced down.  
  
/Pro'bly someone's hat.../  
  
Mush rubbed his eyes as his gaze fell upon the objects. He picked them up gently, caressing the velvety brown leather.  
  
"A pair 'a new shoes...wid matchin' laces..." He jerked his head up, a huge grin plastered to his face.  
  
* * *  
  
That very same morning, Racetrack was heading down to the Sheepshead track, his favorite place in all of New York. As he reached the outer gates, he caught sight of a cop. Ducking behind the sea of people, he managed to lose him, that is, until he got inside.  
  
"You there! Hold on!"  
  
Race stopped in his tracks and turned. Facing the policeman, held out his arms, ready for the cuffs, and awaiting their all-too-familiar snap.  
  
The officer, a portly man with large features and a steely gaze, chuckled.  
  
Race opened his eyes. "What's so funny?"  
  
"They told me you were quite a character when they picked me to escort you..."  
  
"Dey? Dey who?"  
  
The policeman roared with laughter, taking Race delicately by the arm and leading him further into, and above, the stands.  
  
"Heya...idn't da refuge dat way?"  
  
"Sure is Mr. Higgins..."  
  
Race blinked, unbelieving and confused. Willingly, he found himself being led into a solitary room, with quite the set-up.  
  
"If you need anything else sir, don't hesitate to call me." The officer smiled and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
Racetrack fell into an overstuffed chair nearby, rubbing his forehead. The realization finally dawned on him. He gazed out the huge front window as he spoke, grinning giddily. "A poimanent box at da Sheepshead races..."  
  
* * *  
  
Spot slid out of his grimy bed and jumped to the floor, the sheet hanging over the side trembled as he landed solidly.  
  
As he walked to the door, still pulling on his pink suspenders, a herd of burly men came stomping through, carrying a large object and headed toward the messy bathroom on the other side of the room.  
  
Spot stood, transfixed and staring after them. He opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. He followed cautiously behind them, hesitating at the doorway. He watched as the men put down the object, and although his view was still obstructed, he could tell by the strong thump it made that it was heavy.  
  
/Very heavy.../  
  
"'Scuse me, gentlemens..."  
  
The men ignored him.  
  
"May I ask what youse t'ink youse is doin'?" He asked, fingering the slingshot in his backpocket.  
  
One of the men stomped over to him, thrusting a piece of paper and a grubby pencil in his face. Spot glanced at it. "And dis is...?"  
  
The man looked down at him with a cold fire in his eyes. "Is you Conlon?" He asked, glancing quickly at the sheet.  
  
Spot nodded.  
  
"Well, you gotta sign fer dis t'ing...dat okay by youse? Pretty boy?"  
  
Spot choked down a retort, settling for mumbling "Rotten bumma...I oughta soak youse..." under his breath as he signed instead.  
  
The big man, Leroy according to his shirt, grabbed the paper back in his massive hands and stood by as he watched his team rush around their delivery, setting up this, or filling up that.  
  
Spot crossed his arms hotly behind Leroy's back and calmly waited until the men were done.  
  
They walked out the door, stooping to get under the frame, without so much as a word.  
  
Spot tentatively peered around the door, his eyes nearly falling out of his head as his gaze landed on what the deliverymen had brought him.  
  
Steam rose from the water as he inched closer, running his hands lovingly across the smooth white surface and gold plated feet.  
  
A familiar tune popped in his head as he spoke. "A porcelain tub wid boilin' watah..." 


	3. Chapter Three

Kid Blink yawned loudly, fighting to keep his eyes open. /How's a guy supposed ta sleep when dere's beautiful goils ta t'ink about?/ He threw his arms over his head and yawned again. His head had just begun to nod again when a very expensive looking Rolls-Royce pulled up and stopped right in front of his sellin' spot. He shook himself awake as a stout man in his late 40's got out of the car and rushed around to the opposite side.  
  
"Boy! You there, newsboy! Newsboy!"  
  
Blink stood and removed his hat. /Hey ain't dis.../  
  
"I'm Mr. DeMarano, you know, the mayor? Anyway, I'm in a crisis: I've got to go with my wife to a meeting in the capital and I've no one to take care 'a my daughter! Will you look after huh while we're gone? We'll be gone from dis Saturday 'till the following evenin', and we'll even pay you if you'll just please do dis for me!"  
  
Kid Blink stood as still as he could, praying it wasn't just a dream. He leaned over slightly and gazed past the man's shoulder and into the window of the Rolls.  
  
A doe-eyed, dark haired beauty waved shyly at him from the backseat.  
  
"Well...I dunno...I'se is kinda busy..." He said, a silly grin crossing his face.  
  
"Please!!"  
  
Blink didn't need to be asked twice. "Shoa!"  
  
The man got back into his car and rolled down the window next to his daughter, poking his head out as they began to drive away. "And one more t'ing boy! You know where we live right?"  
  
How could he not?  
  
Blink nodded.  
  
"Good, oh! What's your name?"  
  
"Kid Blink!" He called after the car.  
  
The Rolls Royce rounded the corner as the mayor drew his head back inside.  
  
Blink sat down, hard, on the sidewalk and ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. "A Saturday night wid da mayor's daughta..."  
  
* * *  
  
Jack Kelly thrust his hands into his pockets and nudged his thin scarf above his quivering lips. He dug his hands further into his pockets, pausing curiously when he felt a small scrap of paper.  
  
/A buck?!/ He thought excitedly, withdrawing it from his pants. /A love lettah maybe?/  
  
He held it up in front of his eyes, his smile falling as he glanced at it. /Nope, jus' a piece 'a papah...does it say sumpt'in? /  
  
He unfolded it, expecting it to be blank, but was pleasantly surprised when he read the following message written in faintly familiar script across the surface.  
  
My dearest Cowboy, I did my best on your wish, it took me a while, but I think you'll enjoy the end result. I did what I thought you would like. Love, Adri  
  
Jack furrowed his thick eyebrows and shrugged, puzzled by the meaning of her note, and even more puzzled as to how the note got in his pants pocket. /Mus' be da guys.../ He laughed mentally. /Blink prob'bly./  
  
He took a sharp right and pulled open the glass door to Tibby's, gladly receiving the warm air that rushed to greet him.  
  
He took his usual seat in the back booth and waited patiently for the waiter to come over.  
  
"Quit flirtin' wid dem an' get ova heah..." He muttered under his breath, rubbing his tingling hands together.  
  
When his waiter finally sauntered over, Jack ordered the soup-of-the-day, vegetable beef, and a sandwich.  
  
His stomach growled hungrily at the waiter, ordering him to hurry up.  
  
Jack reached in his pocket again to see if he had exact change, mostly just something to keep his mind off the food until it actually arrived.  
  
He pulled out 17 cents: exact change.  
  
Curious, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out exactly what he had earned that day from selling papers: a dollar forty.  
  
Confused, yet eager to test out his new theory, he called the waiter back and ordered a slice of apple pie.  
  
Once his back was turned, Jack thrust his hand into his pocket another time: six more cents than before.  
  
After eating quickly, Cowboy ran over to the local tailor's (Where he and the mayor talked politics for a good hour.) and bought a new jacket. Once again, the exact price was in his pocket when he reached for it.  
  
Grinning from ear to ear, he ran outside to face the cold in his new threads. Raising his fists in the air as if punching the sky, he screamed at the top of his lungs: "Nobbin' wid all da muckety-mucks, I'm blowin' my dough an' goin' deluxe!"  
  
* * *  
  
Boots reached the Lodging House in record time. /Stupid me! How could I'se forget it?!/ He raced upstairs and to his bunk. He grabbed up his pillow and snatched his necklace from underneath.  
  
"Me lucky necklace..." He muttered with a smile. He tied it around his neck and quickly glanced around the room for anything else he might have to run back for later on. His eyes found a dark green-brown velvety looking suit hanging on a wire hanger on the rusty coat rack by the door. He walked closer and reached out to touch it. /I wonda who's did is.../ His skilled chocolate hands found a small tag in the breast pocket. He gently took it out and read it aloud.  
  
"To...Boots...hey, dat's me! Dis suit's mine?!"  
  
He glanced back up, staring at it in a daze. He carefully took it down and slipped on the jacket, replacing his knickers for the new, clean ones.  
  
/Dey fit poifectly.../  
  
As Boots caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, a tear falling down his cheek, a single line ran through his thoughts. /A corduroy suit with fitted knickers.../  
  
* * *  
  
Les hopped from one foot to the other, kicking up the melting snow with the toe of his shoe. He glanced up above the marquee across the street, where it told all he movies that were playing that day. /Jus' 'cause David said wait here doesn't mean I can't go inside.../  
  
He looked from left to right as he crossed the street, his brother's paranoia about getting killed had been deeply rooted in the little boy's mind. He opened the door, letting the warm air greet him kindly. /No one around...maybe I'se can just sneak in for a peek.../  
  
"Hold it son..."  
  
/Oh...no...Dave's gonna kill me!/ He turned around, very slowly, and found himself facing the manager, Mr. Smiggins: a tall, balding man with a strange habit of twitching his lips whenever he got agitated.  
  
"And just where do you think you are going?"  
  
Les whimpered helplessly. "I din't mean nuttin', honest! I just wanted ta see a flicka befoa I went to me last reward..." He coughed softly for effect.  
  
The manager's eyebrows drew together quickly, the parted again, giving the impression that they had bounced off one another. Les almost laughed out loud.  
  
"I mean, why aren't you headed to your usual spot young Mr. Jacobs?"  
  
"My usual...spot?" He gazed up at Mr. Smiggins with a confused look on his face.  
  
"Don't worry Les, I'll take you."  
  
Baffled as he was, he followed the manager to the back, where, through a series of twists and turns, they ended up in one of the balcony seats.  
  
"I don't under--"  
  
"If you need anything sir, please, don't hesitate." The manager disappeared behind the thick, soft curtain.  
  
Les sat on the plush, dark red couch and let it take him in. The lights dimmed, and a movie started. The opening credits jogged his memory to words spoken so long ago: /A mezzanine seat ta see da flickas.../ 


	4. Chapter Four

Snipeshooter rubbed his sleepy eyes, dragging his last remaining paper behind him lazily. /Bed...bed...bed.../ Echoed over and over in his weary mind. /Sure wish I had a ciggy...a cigar...sumptin'.../  
  
He reached the Lodging House after what felt like hours. He pushed open the door with what little strength he had and carried the paper up the, now seemingly very steep, staircase. Flopping down on his bed, he landed on a cardboard box laying haphazardly on his bed.  
  
"What da..."  
  
He rolled to one side and lifted the box off his bed. He slowly read the cover. "Ahundred poicent true Havana..." His voice trailed off as he finished reading the box and lifted the lid. He took out the small scrap of paper laying inside and inhaled the sweet scent of the box's contents.  
  
Dear Snipes, thought you'd enjoy these. If you want more, go down to the corner, they're only a quarter.  
  
/Havana cigars dat cost a quahter.../  
  
* * *  
  
David entered the bunkers in the midst of a rousing game of Gin Rummy, with Racetrack on the verge of practically almost possibly winning. He glanced down at Mush's feet curiously, but stayed silent; continuing on his way. He took note of the huge cardboard box under Sipeshooter's arm, but again, he said nothing. He didn't even say anything about Boot's new suit that seemingly came from nowhere, or when Blink ran into him without noticing, a giant sappy grin plastered across his face. But when he passed Spot, whose hands were more wrinkled than his great-aunt Mildred's, he had to speak up.  
  
Spot didn't reply; he simply looked up at him lazily, a grin stretching across his face.  
  
David scratched his head and looked around for Jack, but couldn't see him anywhere. "Where is he?" He mumbled to no one in particular.  
  
Les strolled in the door, smiling ear to ear. "Heya Davey!" He ran to his brother and wrapped his arms around David's waist.  
  
"Les! Where've you been?! Ma's worried sick, and pa's nearly beside himself!"  
  
"Gee, I'se sorry Dave."  
  
"An' quit talkin' like that!"  
  
Les screwed up his face in question. "Like what Dave?"  
  
David sighed. "Never mind, where's Jack?"  
  
Les rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "He put an egg in 'is shoe an' beat it. How'm I s'possed ta know where he is? I ain't his keepah." His face softened. "But I think he'll be back soon...at least, I hope so..."  
  
"So, where were you?"  
  
"At the movies, like you told me ta be."  
  
David sighed again. "Where?" His eyes searched Les's face. "Lester Evan Jacobs! I meant to wait for me /out/side!" He yelled, drawing the attention of quite a few newsies.  
  
Les's eyes opened wide and he slapped his hand over David's mouth. "Shh!"  
  
"Don't shush me Les," He insisted, prying off his hand. "Why were you inside?"  
  
"Don't be mad David, listen! When I gots inside, da manager took me ta dis mezzanine seat! And he said dat it was mine! Just like I always wanted!"  
  
David furrowed his eyebrows again. "I don't...are you sure?"  
  
Les rolled his eyes again. "Yeah I'se sure."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He shrugged slightly. "How'm I s'possed ta know?" He repeated, grabbing Dave around the waist again. "Alls I know is, I'se got my wish! I t'ink it's 'cause 'a Adri!"  
  
David unlatched his brother from around his waist and walked, confused, over to Mush. He inquired about the shoes.  
  
"I dunno Davey, dey was just by me bed when I woke up dis mornin'."  
  
The valley between David's brows grew deeper as he stalked over to Snipeshooter.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
Snipeshooter took one of the two cigars out of his mouth. "Whadda ya mean?" Came his muffled question.  
  
David grabbed the box. "I mean this!" He shouted, raising it above his head.  
  
The room grew suddenly silent, everyone sitting deathly still. Spot made a motion as if to get up, but thought better of it.  
  
"What's with the new shoes? The cigars? The new suits! The sappy grins on everyone's faces?!" David tossed the cigar box back to Snipes, a few spilling on the floor.  
  
At that moment, Jack walked in the door.  
  
"And where the /hell/ have you been?!" David screamed.  
  
Jack flinched. "Woah...hey Davey-boy, youse okay?"  
  
David collapsed on a nearby bed and ran a hand through his hair. "No..." He said meakly.  
  
"Consider yaself lucky I'se in such a good mood Dave...Heya Spot." He waved happily at Brooklyn. He sat on the bed next to David. "So, what's da problem?"  
  
David gazed at Jack, bleary-eyed. "I don't understand what's goin' on!"  
  
"Ya mean wid all da stuff?" Jack gestured around the room, and to himself.  
  
David nodded, peering curiously at Jack's new coat, shoes, and suspenders. "Well, that and the sappy grins on everyone's faces...." He grumbled.  
  
Jack's lips tightened into a sympathetic smile. "Dave...rememba' back durin' da strike?"  
  
David nodded wordlessly.  
  
"Well, remembah how we'se was always goin' around singin'?" He didn't wait for a reply, he knew the answer was yes. "When we was in Tibby's wid Denton...da second time...ya remembah da song we was singin'?"  
  
David nodded slowly, the realization slowly dawning on him. "And that's what...Adri meant?"  
  
Jack smiled in agreement.  
  
Dave jumped off the bed, excited. "Well that's great!" He glanced around hurriedly. "Where's /my/ stuff?"  
  
Race scratched his head with his cards and gazed up at him from the floor. "Dave...poihaps ya could recall what you sang in dat pahticulah little numbah..."  
  
David's smile slowly faded as the realization, once again, finally came to him. "So does that mean that...Oh...my...God...I just wasted my hard earned wish on..."  
  
A haunting voice danced around in David's skull: /An editor's desk for the star reporter.../  
  
David's screams rang out across New York, quickly followed by the stifled laughter of the Manhattan newsies. 


End file.
